Forgive Us Our Sins
by katreeny
Summary: Kink meme de-anon. OP wanted the nations first times. The story twisted into this.


The Roman Empire sighed. The Big Man had a way of making him pay for his escapades when he visited his family back in the living world, but really, this was excessive.

He stood, not yet manifest, watching yet another World Council meeting fall apart. His two heirs had taken cover under the table when America had responded to Russia's taunts by throwing a punch that send the frigid nation flying six feet into the wall. Germany was shouting, trying to bring order back, England had taken the opportunity to kick France's vital regions as payback for the latter's flirting, and Prussia, who usually defused these things before they could erupt, was too hungover to bother lifting his head from the table.

Rome couldn't blame the former nation: yesterday had been the anniversary of his dissolution, and Prussia _always_ got blind drunk on that day.

"We should stop this." Germania sounded calm, as always. "We taught them this: it is our responsibility to fix our errors."

The other ancients murmured agreement. Even the Golden Horde, who had been the most trenchantly against any change to the old traditions – until the devastation of the Second World War. The old raider's pride wouldn't let him appear to agree with the Big Man's orders, though, so he'd joined the group of ancients with a show of reluctance.

Rome wondered why the other ancients looked to _him_ for guidance. His empire had not been the first, the greatest, or the largest, and honestly, he'd hated the wars – while enjoying a good brawl as much as any man – because they took him away from his many loves.

"Yes," he said, and hoped this would work, not least because he _really_ did not want to have to use the Big Man's second stage of this plan.

#

Germany's voice froze mid-shout when a blinding light filled the conference room. He raised his arm to shield his eyes, aware that everyone had fallen quiet. All he could hear was nations breathing.

Then a far-too-familiar voice said, "By Jupiter's beard, what a mess."

He opened his eyes and lowered his arm. Yes, it was the Roman Empire, standing in the center of a group of… nations? One, in dappled green and brown clothing, looked like Germany himself, if Germany had long hair and wore something so outlandish. There was a dark-haired woman dressed as though she was one of Greece's statues come to life, another who could have stepped off Egypt's ancient murals. A red-headed woman with a bow stood beside a man who looked like an older, fiercer version of Mongolia.

Nobody moved for a long time.

The Roman Empire clapped his hands. "Come now, all of you youngsters, straighten things up and get back to your seats. We have a lot to do."

Germany realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it, his teeth clicking.

China looked as though he was going to protest the 'youngsters' comment, then he looked at the group and meekly started tidying the papers scattered when America had lunged across the table.

#

Rome dearly wanted to hug both his grandsons, as well as the nations he'd fathered but never acknowledge in his time. That would spoil the Big Man's plan, though. He was going to have to think of something to get back at the old fellow, but for now, he'd best play along and get this over with.

Once all the living nations were seated – Prussia hadn't lifted his head even once – Rome graced them with his best smile. "Much better." Then he sobered. "Now, this is going to be a little difficult."

Young Germany was glaring daggers at him, a glare that was more than a little reminiscent of Germania's moods, right down to the narrowed eyes and suspicious expression.

Germania stepped forward then, picking up the thread of the Big Man's instructions. "We taught you, our children, how nations worked," Germania didn't sound quite as expressionless as usual. "But we were wrong on one very important point."

All of the nations looked bewildered.

Germania flushed. "Conquest," he said in a soft voice. "Conquest, occupation, annexation… they do not need to be sealed as we taught you."

Rome could see the nations thinking that through, the uncertainty and confusion.

"We were all wrong." Brittania spoke up then. "We hurt ourselves when we conquer as well as the nation we rape."

Her words fell into horrified silence.

The Golden Horde nodded, a single curt gesture. "Breaks us too." He turned to look directly at a white-faced, openly terrified Russia. "I hurt you bad when you were too little for me. I am wrong. I am… sorry."

Russia tried to speak, but couldn't force words out of his mouth.

America jumped to his feet, glaring fiercely at the ancient nations. "Dude, you think _sorry_ cuts it? He was a freaking _baby_! I'm gonna -"

"No, son." The Great Mother stepped forward, her dark hair loose about her shoulders. "You alone of those here have neither suffered nor inflicted those wounds. Your part is to show what it is to have joined with others solely by choice."

America blinked. Stared. "Mama?"

She smiled. "Russia was your first partner, in the early 1990s."

America's face flushed bright scarlet.

"You, my son, were the first to join with him by choice."

Russia hid his face in his scarf.

Germania cleared his throat. "Two others here have never raped another," he said quietly. "Canada, whose first chosen partner was Ukraine, but whose first time was with Germany."

Germany's face matched America's, but he bowed his head, clearly waiting for condemnation.

Canada – for once – was clearly heard by everyone in the room. "I forgave you a long time ago, Germany. You couldn't disobey your boss's orders."

If anything, Germany's blush grew fiercer.

"The other is Prussia."

#

Germany just stared at his look-alike, mouth open. _Everyone_ knew Prussia's reputation. It was impossible that he… that…

It occurred to him then that all the modern nations – particularly those who had been defeated by Prussia at some point during their turbulent history – wore the same thunderstruck expression. As though they'd been smacked in the face with something they'd never considered possible. Or even thinkable.

France broke the shocked silence with a soft, "I thought it was just me."

Poland tossed his hair. "As if I cared whether he wanted me enough to finish things."

Austria sniffed. "I hardly care what that barbarian thinks."

Germany's hands clenched. He wanted to shout his fellow-nations down, to berate them for being so callous about his brother… but he had been no better than they, and if he said anything they'd throw his past in his face and likely worse.

Prussia's chair shot backwards on its wheels and slammed into the wall as the red-eyed nation rose, glaring around the room with a fury that managed to cow everyone who met that glare. "You could have asked," he spat. With a curt gesture he pulled something from his pocket, tossed it onto the table in Hungary's direction, where the object splayed out and revealed itself to be a rosary. "I was and am _Ordo domus Sanctæ Mariæ Theutonicorum Hierosolymitanorum_. A _religious_ order. I was ordained in 1190, and became a cardinal in the 1300s."

Germany swallowed.

"You became Protestant." Austria could have been more contemptuous, but it would have taken effort.

Prussia shook his head. "My Grandmaster did that. I never did." Another glare. "Thing is, my _dear_ friends, up until I met Hungary, I'd only ever met Templar and Hospitaller, and they'd never met any _real_ countries either."

America and England both had the grace to look somewhat shamed. Most of the others looked bewildered.

"Since our predecessors here seem to want sexual confessions," That verbal snipe made the Roman Empire and Germany's doppelganger stiffen. "Well, fine. When the Order was chased out of Acre, Mamluk sealed it."

Hungary paled, and Austria's eyes widened.

"After he was done, I swore I would _never_ do that to anyone else." Prussia shrugged. "Between that and my vows, that was the end of the matter." Now contempt filled his expression. "Imagine what I thought of you lot when I found out you thought it was _normal_ to rape the nation you defeated no matter how small they were."

Poland actually looked stricken, and Lithuania horrified.

Prussia smiled bitterly. "Yeah." He gave the nations another glare. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's rather a lot of beer I need to get very friendly with."

Germany made no attempt to stop his brother. Frankly, Prussia deserved whatever consolation he could find, whether alcoholic or otherwise.

The ancients apparently disagreed. Germany's look-alike – he had to be the legendary Germania – moved to block the door. "No, my son. You have things to teach your fellow nations."

"Oh, I'm not one of them," Prussia said with withering sarcasm. "I'm just a useless hanger-on who lurks in my brother's basement."

Germania's eyes were suspiciously bright. "You are far more than that, and there are those here who will tell you so."

"Fuck them and their pity."

"Dude!" America's voice rang out and echoed faintly off the walls. "Pity ain't cutting it. Sure I was kind of pissed with the whole East Germany shit, but damn… You've been my freaking inspiration for years. Even got a town named for ya – and it's got one of the best damn malls in the country."

It wasn't often Germany got to see his brother genuinely stunned. He savored the moment, Prussia's deer-in-the-headlights look wasn't likely to happen again for another hundred years or so, if not more. Moments like these reminded him that his brother wasn't _that_ far beyond his reach after all. That he could possibly attain the same heights without becoming a monster.

There was a rare uncertainty in Prussia's voice when he said, "You… admire me?" As though he didn't believe anyone could do that.

"Fuck yeah!" Nobody could doubt America's enthusiasm. Of course, America showed the same enthusiasm for giant pollution-eating robots, which rather damaged his credibility, but still… The admiration of the world's only superpower wasn't something to dismiss casually.

"So do I." Canada rose and walked over to Prussia, guiding the startled nation to his chair. "Not many of us would sacrifice ourselves for family -"

France actually looked ashamed of himself, as did England. Germany suspected he didn't want to know the history there, at least, not the personal history.

"- but you not only did that, you sacrificed yourself for a nation at war with your brother, simply because you believed it was the right thing to do." Canada's soft smile wasn't quite one of hero-worship, but it was close. "If you ever need it, New Prussia is yours. It's not much, I know, but -"

"Canada," Prussia said in a voice that actually shook. "Stop. You'll make me lose my awesome completely."

For a long time nobody said anything. Germany was sure most of the nations were unsure what they could say that wouldn't be horrifically _awkward_. It would be like encountering a prim France, or an exhibitionist Canada, or… Well. He hoped the two north American nations could see his gratitude, because he truly didn't know how he could thank them for this. For the healing he could see beginning.

"This is why you must speak," Germania said softly. "The harm you have done each other cannot begin to heal until you acknowledge it. The harm you have done to yourselves cannot begin to heal until you can apologize to those you wronged and mean every word."

#

"That's a fine thing for you to say, bastard!"

The Roman Empire closed his eyes for a moment. The elder of his heirs had good reason for his hatred, for everything, really, and this reckoning had to happen.

South Italy stood, pointing towards Rome, the outstretched hand trembling. "It wasn't you that was _conquered_ by your own grandsire. At least Spain tried to be gentle." He spat each word out as though tasting bile.

North Italy stared from Rome to his brother, amber eyes gone wide and distressed.

Half the nations of South America were on their feet, shouting that Spain had shown _them_ no such gentleness, while the rest glared equally fiercely in Portugal's direction.

"Silence, the lot of you!" Prussia's battlefield roar cut through the noise. He turned to Rome, his gesture more like stabbing the old nation. "You think opening raw wounds is going to help? You think exposing all our weaknesses in front of fucking blood enemies is going to make things better?" The former nation's glare left Rome suspecting that he too would have fallen to Prussia had they ever faced each other in battle. "No. You fools want us to heal, you let us do it our way."

Rome blinked. To his shock, Prussia was heard, respected. When everything he'd seen over the years suggested Prussia was seen as merely an infernal nuisance, there was respect, even fear.

Germania's rare little hint of a smile warmed his eyes more than Rome liked to admit – but then he liked his old rival a whole lot more than he should. "Might one ask what is 'your way', my son?"

To Rome, the pride in Germania's voice was clear.

Prussia snorted. "How about this: all of us who've fucked someone over and regret it start by apologizing."

Rome suspected the vulgar language was deliberate – Prussia used words the same way he used everything else: as weapons and tools towards whatever his goal happened to be. Lately that goal had been making himself seem harmless and a figure of ridicule, but now… Rome wondered what else he'd missed while he'd been watching his children and grandsons.

"Hai." Japan spoke into the hush. "I deeply regret all that I did as an Empire and the pain I caused to my family -" He bowed first to China, then Taiwan, then Korea, and one by one the other Asian nations. "- and my friends. I will be honored if you choose to forgive."

America smiled in Japan's direction. "I forgive you, dude."

"Forgiveness originated in me!" Korea shouted.

Taiwan swallowed. She was shaking. "I… can't." She blinked several times, wrapped her arms around herself. "I just..." Her voice rose, shaking. "I just… _can't_."

Japan bowed once more, and went to his knees. "I beg you, if I can take any action that will ease your soul, please inform me and I will act immediately."

For a moment, Taiwan didn't respond, then her eyes seemed to take on a dark light. "You can die!"

 _Jupiter's ass, what have we unleashed?_

Rome was given no chance to ponder that question: Japan produced his katana from… somewhere and offered the weapon to Taiwan.

"No, sister." China started from his seat, only to find Prussia behind him, gently pushing him back down.

"She needs to let this out," Prussia murmured.

"I failed her," China whispered, watching Taiwan snatch the sheathed weapon from Japan's hands, draw it from its sheath. "I failed them all."

Taiwan's face twisted, and she drove the katana through Japan's stomach. "I… why can't I do it? I should… You slaughtered my people and replaced them with yours. You made me your 'little cherry blossom' and treated me like a doll. _Why_?"

This time Prussia didn't stop China rising. The oldest of the living nations walked lightly to his sister, pulled her into a gentle embrace. "It is because you are true to yourself, sister. You are not a killer. Hate is not in you." He gave her a sad smile. "It is not for us to question our leaders, nor to turn away from their commands."

Korea knelt beside Japan, for once quiet while he helped withdraw the sword. Japan's breath came in a series of hissing gasps, and pain twisted his expression, but he held up one hand when Korea tried to help him to his feet. "I deserve no less."

"No." Korea shook his head. "You are not the person who did those things." He cleaned the sword, sheathed it, then helped Japan to stand, guided him to his seat. "That person died in America's bombs and let the real Japan come back."

Japan blinked, a hint of confusion on his usually expressionless face. "You are North and South… yet you forgive?"

One of Korea's rare, genuine smiles – echoed by that odd hair-curl of his – warmed his usually sharp, mischievous face. "It is because I am North and South that I _can_ forgive, brother." His smile twisted into its usual wickedness. "And now I must claim big brother's breasts again or he will think there is something terribly wrong with me."

#

Rome's attention was taken from the Asian nation when Germania pointed him towards Turkey, who sat absolutely still while both Australia and New Zealand spoke to him. Apparently both southern nations had decided to offer forgiveness. Turkey didn't move even when the two young nations embraced him before New Zealand and Australia joined the fast-growing cluster of Asian and South Pacific nations, where both were welcomed.

England stared at the two, eyes open wide and tears in his eyes.

Russia turned to the three Baltic nations, his lips moving in an apology too soft for Rome to hear. Lithuania shuddered, but murmured acceptance, while Estonia merely shook his head and retreated, staring. Latvia smiled despite teary eyes and hugged Russia. "You can start to get better now," he said. "Prussia taught me that."

Bewilderment flickered across Russia's blank expression. "Prussia?" He pronounced it 'proosiya'.

"When I was the Livonian Brothers of the Sword," Latvia explained. "He killed four of his own knights for… you know… and told me there was no shame in being overpowered by stronger enemies." The smallest Baltic smiled. "Prussia was a good big brother."

"You're a better person than I could ever be," Prussia murmured, having approached the two while they spoke. "You're the one who's done everything he could to help the others heal, and forgiven everyone who's hurt you." He ruffled Latvia's hair. "I can't do that, no matter how I pray for it."

"You help your way, Prussia." Latvia squeezed the former nation's hand. "How many beatings have you taken for others in your life?"

Beatings and worse, was the unspoken implication.

Rome glanced at Germania, who raised an eyebrow at him. "How much of this did you know?"

Germania lifted one shoulder a little. "All of it. We all have our ways to deal with pain, Rome. His is… a little unusual I grant, but it works for him."

Rome wouldn't call Prussia's current state 'working'.

Prussia shrugged off Latvia's comment with a wry twist of a smile. "I'm a freak, an abomination, demon-spawned, not a proper nation, all of that." There wasn't any humor in his voice. "Since everyone's going torture me anyway, why not protect those who aren't used to it?" He spoke softly, but Russia heard him, as did Lithuania and Estonia.

Russia stared. "Is that why you are being so difficult in my house?"

The albino nation chuckled. "Well, duh. While you were playing with me, you weren't after anyone else."

Russia bit his lip. "I am so very sorry, for everything." He moved to stand, but Prussia gently pressed him back into his chair.

"It wasn't your fault, shithead."

Rome had to admit that Prussia's way of accepting an apology was unique.

"Your bosses and Horde did a number on you." A quick shrug, then he ruffled Russia's hair. "Not surprising you cracked."

Latvia shook his head and clicked his tongue. "And you say you can't forgive."

Prussia stuck his tongue out at the smaller nation. "This ain't forgiveness. It's accepting that shit happens and sometimes we're stuck doing crap we don't want."

"Prussia asks too much of himself." North Italy ventured out from under the table to hug Prussia. "Forgiving doesn't mean acting like nothing happened," he added. "It's what you're doing now, being nice to Russia even though Russia was mean to you."

Prussia looked shocked for a moment before he returned the hug. "Don't ever stop being such a sweetheart, Vene."

North Italy smiled, not his usual bright and rather clueless smile but something much more gentle and forgiving. He turned to Austria and whispered in that austere nation's ear.

Austria stiffened, rubbed his forefinger against his nose while he watched the smaller nation run around the room giving hugs to anyone and everyone.

Now Rome was beginning to see the fruits of Prussia's suggestion. Turkey spoke with Greece, for once not arguing or spitting venom, Romania and Bulgaria both hugged the masked nation before giving Russia the same treatment. Bosnia, Serbia, and the other Balkan nations cried as they held each other, while the Africans and South Americans were mingling without concern for the ancient feuds that tore them apart in the power vacuum left by their former colonizers.

Germania nodded. "He's smarter than he pretends, old man." He turned to the other Ancients. "Go on. We have our own apologies to make to our descendants."

#

Germany watched, bewildered, as the weirdest chaos he'd even seen at one of these meetings expanded to include everyone present. Turkey punched Rome in the face before being wrapped in the ancient's arms, Russia was actually _talking_ to the old barbarian – the Horde? - who'd terrified him earlier, Poland and Lithuania approached Prussia and for once it seemed that the conversation was civil, if awkward, leaving Germany to wonder just what had happened while his brother had been a Polish duchy.

Spain and Portugal embraced a woman who looked so much like them she had to be their mother, before the three of them spoke to a rather battered Rome.

If he hadn't made his own much-needed apologies to everyone he'd conquered as soon as he was able, Germany would have found the whole situation agonizingly embarrassing. Bad enough to have one's sexual preferences become the topic of global gossip, without everyone knowing who you'd had sex with when, and whether or not it was forced. He really _should_ have listened to Prussia and not his other brothers.

Especially not Bavaria. 'Hunt them down and conquer them: they love it'. Ugh.

It had taken him years to be able to meet England's cold green gaze after, and longer for the crawling anger and shame to fade. And France, well… Germany doubted he would ever be able to forgive the nation for demanding Prussia's death and trying to make Germany into a kind of fake France. He still had to force himself not to show anything but neutrality towards the so-called nation of love.

Both France and England sat with their arms folded, stubbornly refusing to accept that they might perhaps be other than purely innocent or righteous.

Germania approached them both, rested a hand on each nation's shoulder.

Germany carefully didn't smile at their near-identical reactions.

"You are brothers," Germania said. "And my sons."

Germany wished he hadn't heard that. It meant he was related to _France_. Behind him, Prussia snickered.

"You knew?"

Prussia spoke so softly Germany doubted anyone else would hear him. "Ja, I knew. _Vati_ had Fuzz-face with Rome, and Eyebrows with Brittania."

Germany looked from Germania to Rome, and back. The discussion with France and England didn't appear to be going well, despite the addition of the redheaded bow woman – presumably Brittania. More to the point, both Germania and Rome were very much male. Emphatically so. "Er…"

Prussia made a sound Germany was sure he didn't want to interpret. "Something 'proper' nations can do," he said. "When we've lost, or we choose to submit to someone or some shit."

Germany was quite certain his face was on fire – although it did explain why the aftermath of that war had felt so… odd. To distract himself from that – it wasn't pleasant to remember, and he'd rather focus on sensible things – Germany looked to see what was happening with England and France.

England had his arms wrapped around Brittania, crying softly. Germany recognized the posture: someone letting out centuries of pain in the arms of one of the few he trusted. He'd done with same with North Italy, a few years before the Wall had come down.

He averted his eyes, not wanting to intrude on something so personal.

France had an odd look in his eyes when he approached Germany and Prussia. "I… It seems we are full brothers, you and I."

Germany blinked. "We are?" Oh, wait… Prussia had told him once he'd been the Holy Roman Empire, the youngest of Germania's many children, and with a name like that, Rome had to be his other parent.

"Yes, you are." Germania's voice was quiet, calm. "And it is past time you reconciled."

That meant more than the last hundred years, Germany was sure.

France glowered at the ancient nation. "That's easy for you to say. You didn't have this _barbarian_ traipsing through your heart like he owned it."

Germania raised an eyebrow. "No, I had _that_ barbarian -" he pointed to Rome, who appeared to have managed to turn the whole of southern Europe into a family gathering - "- traipsing through mine."

"And you killed him in revenge." The flatness of France's voice told Germany far more than he'd wanted to know.

"No." Germania's calm didn't waver. "I gave him mercy when he asked it, when Constantinople fell to the Ottomans."

France was left with his mouth open, not that Germany blamed him. Everyone 'knew' Germania had killed Rome, but he doubted any of the nations realized it had been an act of mercy.

Prussia squeezed his shoulder.

Germany reached back to wrap an arm around his brother's body. Every now and then, when Prussia was tired, Germany would catch a little of the pain his older brother concealed from the world, and he fully understood why a nation suffering that would ask someone he trusted for mercy. If Prussia ever asked that of him, Germany could only hope he would be able to give it.

Prussia broke their little bubble of silence. "Look, if you don't regret anything, don't bother apologizing. That's just insulting."

France flushed. "I am not the one who slaughtered millions!"

"Ja? Your Napoleon might disagree." Prussia's voice could have cut steel. "And don't try claiming anything from before that, either," he added before France could object. "Fact is, we've all been beating on each other for the smallest pretext since forever."

Germany felt his brother's movement, heard the sneer in his voice. "I couldn't stop my kings playing at war, but I tried to do what I could to make up for the shit they pulled. Same as I did with my knights. I've made my peace with what I am and what I've done, Fuzz-face. Have you?"

Germania sighed. "Little elf, you may be at peace with your deeds, but you are not at peace with your soul."

Prussia made a sound of derision. "And you're surprised?" he demanded. "I'm working on it. That will do for now."

Another sigh, but before Germania could speak, France's disgusted, "You mean I'm related to that monster?" shattered any chance of an amicable ending to the tension.

"Calm your tits, Fuzz-face." Prussia's voice was colder than anything Germany had heard in years. Not since he'd been stuck with his mad boss's orders had Germany heard anything like this. "I'm adopted. You don't need to fear any tainted blood from me."

France glared. "Good. After everything you did we should have killed you when we dissolved you."

Which was why Germany doubted he could ever forgive France completely. The conquest and occupation, unpleasant as they had been, those he could live with. But the desire to destroy Prussia who'd been completely innocent and lied to spare Germany the worst? That he couldn't forgive, and worse, Prussia wouldn't allow him to reveal the truth.

Germania's sharp, "Enough," was almost as forceful as Prussia's battlefield command voice. "You were once friendly with Prussia. Do you truly believe he would change so much from the man you once knew?"

" _Vati_ , don't." Prussia wasn't pleading. To his eternal shame, Germany knew what Prussia pleading sounded like, and this wasn't it.

"He's a monster," France snarled. "A demon. He slaughters on the battlefield and _laughs_. He's -"

"I'm a fucking berserker, arse-wipe," Prussia retorted. "Same as Canada."

Who, Germany noted, was having an emotional moment with the four attending Nordics – Iceland having declined due to one of his volcanoes erupting a few days ago – and who looked awfully like Norway when you saw the two of them side by side.

France rocked back on his feet, apparently shocked. "Berserker? But..."

"I'm not Nordic, ja, I know." Now Prussia just sounded tired. "Fuck if I know why I've got it, but I do. Anything else you'd like to condemn me for? Might as well get it all out in the open."

France blinked. Stared.

Germany knew without looking that Prussia was rubbing his left arm again.

"Please," Germania said softly. "Little elf, tell him. You've carried this on your own long enough."

France's frown was one of confusion now, not anger. "Tell me what?"

Prussia sighed. "Oh, just that I lied at the trial. No way I was letting you arses rip into my brother after everything I gave up for him."

Germany bowed his head, knowing Prussia meant far more than simply creating the empire. He'd failed Prussia so many times the shame was unbearable, and made worse by the way Prussia forgave him every time he'd thrown his brother's generosity in his face.

God, Prussia even forgave Germany for conquering him and treating him like a slave for years. Forgave him for sending him to the camps and an existence of torture.

He didn't want to see France's face, see that hatred fall to him.

"You… _what_?"

"I lied." Prussia didn't mince words. "God in Heaven, France, West wasn't even a hundred years old for that war. Do you really think he had any way of defying his boss at that age? It's hard enough when you're over a thousand. Even China has trouble."

France was breathing hard. "You… you lied to protect… Dear god, _do you know what he did to me_?"

Germany wished he could disappear into the floor. Worse, the room had gone silent, everyone's attention caught by France's anguished shout.

Prussia just… Germany didn't need to look to know his brother wore that odd little smile of his, the sad one that meant he was going to say or do something that revealed his true self to whoever was there. The true self that was nothing like the loudmouthed buffoon he pretended to be to protect himself.

"He'd already done the same to me, France." Prussia's soft, emotionless voice carried to every nation in the room. "When he did it to you, I was wearing a black triangle. Because I'd blown my cover getting Canada out before the kid could be shipped off to Mengele as an experimental subject. I took Canada's place."

Silence.

Now France's voice shook. "And you… you _forgave_ that?"

"He had no choice," Prussia said simply. "Of course I did."

"Then… why does…"

"Oh, France," Prussia sighed. "France. You can be so blind sometimes, not that I'm any better. They're not here because we need to forgive the people who fucked us over or apologize to the ones we fucked over."

 _Oh_. The realization hit Germany with the force of a bunker-buster a moment before Prussia spoke. His eyes burned and he started to shake.

"We need to forgive ourselves."

#


End file.
